


outside looking in

by elricslut



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elricslut/pseuds/elricslut
Summary: As another Christmas rolls around, Light Yagami ponders his existence.
Relationships: Amane Misa/Yagami Light
Kudos: 10





	outside looking in

**Author's Note:**

> For a Death Note Secret Santa 2020, for @hcrrorpop. Merry Christmas! <3

As another Christmas rolls around, Light Yagami ponders his existence. 

This time of year, as of late, feels like standing outside looking in. It’s like clockwork, all over the world; people decorate, give gifts, and act happy. He stares down at the city and experiences vertigo, the lights above and below almost identical. 

People act this way out of obligation, he decides. If put up to it, no one would choose this stress over maybe making someone happy. It can’t be fun— although nothing is fun anymore. 

It’s crazy, Light thinks. The night is clear. He raises his palm and wraps a hand around the moon. It’s mine. 

Lowering his gaze once more, he ponders the people below. How many of these people will die today? Tomorrow? How much time have they wasted on this season that means nothing, of their life? How many years did Light waste acting that way? How much of it matters?

When he was a kid, this had to have been his favorite time of year. What kid doesn’t like Christmas? He can remember his mothers face, her warm smile. He remembers his father’s pleased grin. The food and the gifts and the feeling. It didn’t lose its charm when he became a brother, either. 

He wonders what it was like for his parents, how it felt to have a nice, nuclear family. Had his father been proud of the woman he married, the children that they had together? Did he feel like they deserved the things they were given? Light decided, yes, he could assume so. His father had his head buried in the sand to the very end. 

And his mother, had she been happy? Did she enjoy her life as a mother? It doesn’t matter.

When, then, did it become cheap? Where did the wonder go? He supposes it happens to everyone when they get older, but for him, it’s deeper. It’s worse. 

He remembers, then, why everything changed. He perishes the thought, tucking his childhood memories away for good. 

What of the lives he’s taken thus far? Did they act like this every year? Would they have done it if they’d known how little time they’d had left? They were bad people. He doesn’t care. 

Did Ryuzaki celebrate Christmas? Doubtful— what do you buy for a guy like that? Doesn’t matter now. 

And himself. How many Christmases have passed? How has he changed between every single one? Light thinks of high school, guys scrambling to find gifts for the girls of their dreams. Even then, doe-eyed and baby faced, Light can’t recall himself participating in that. Maybe he’d given one to Kiyomi, back then. Maybe.   
He wonders what it’s like for people who aren’t working toward something greater. What’s it like to have no real purpose, to live and die for yourself? If that were me, Light thinks, I’d cease to exist. 

Christmas was on the back burner with the task force, he recalled. Some of them had families, but that came second, spare Aizawa. He remembers the snow. He remembers the complaining. Would they have complained had they known their fate? 

He leans over the railing, looks down at the cars whirring past. I could do it, he thinks, and the world would go on. Nothing would change. 

Light clenches his teeth. Which is why, he thinks, I cannot fail.

Does this mean anything? Does the unity of almost all people for one day a year mean anything at all in the grand scope of things? The lights, the music, the gifts, do they mean anything? How could any of this bring happiness to anyone? 

Furthermore, on the topic of Christmas, Misa— 

— is standing behind him. 

“Light,” she smiles. “Come inside.” The colors glimmer on skin, on her hair. 

He does.


End file.
